


come out of the shade

by drunkonwriting



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Hurt Jim, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, jim doing stupid shit, leonard slowly losing his mind over jim kirk's inability to stay safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkonwriting/pseuds/drunkonwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five times leonard fixes jim and one time jim freaks the fuck out when leonard gets hurt. and in the process, they sort of admit that they they want to bone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come out of the shade

**Author's Note:**

> So this began as a really small drabble and then I realized I wanted to do a 5+1 fic and it turned into this. 
> 
> My knowledge of how technology and medicine in the ST world is spotty at best - I did some research, but if there's anything weird or... not possible, my apologies. I also don't remember what the AOS excuse was for getting rid of Chapel, but I've decided to ignore it: in this story's canon, Chapel works at the Starfleet hospital and then gets recruited to the Enterprise by McCoy. Since it doesn't say specifically, Chapel is brought onto the Enterprise after IV and before +1 (probably around II or I). 
> 
> Also, this probably matters to no one, but Leonard swears like a goddamn sailor in this fic. So, uh. If you have something against swearing, don't read?
> 
> Also, sorry, there is literally like three kisses in this and nothing else. But hey, who doesn't love schmoopy h/c fic with Bones patching Jim up and being all fond and exasperated at him?

 

 

**v.**

 

Bones is in the sickbay, reading a report. Innocuous, suspiciously so because Jim's out on assignment and his mind is half on that and half on the figures on his page, looping themselves into figure 8's-- 

"McCoy!" someone shouts and Bones is on his feet, running because he knows that shout, knows that edge of hysteria that says: it's the Captain, it's the _Captain_ , come quick. Hypos bristling through his fingertips, he races down the halls, all empty--

Turns a corner and there's Jim, alone, dripping blood from his eyes, his mouth, his fingernails. Blond hair matted down, streaked crimson, and when Jim smiles--his wide, charming smile--his teeth are blood red.

"Bones," he says. "Bones, help--"

Bones runs to him, but Jim keeps getting further and further away and Bones can see the blood dripping on the floor. Panic rises because Jim's lost too much blood, he's _losing too much blood_ , he won't--

"Why can't you save me?" Jim whispers and Leonard jerks awake with a scream.

He stares into the darkness of his room, panting. A dream, he thinks and the relief leaves him shaking. Just another dream. This one so realistic he'd thought, for a second . . . .

Leonard drags a hand over his face, eyes gritty, teeth chattering with anxiety. Jim's safe in his own bed, he saw Jim to it three hours ago after yet another close call where Jim narrowly avoided getting shot point blank in the chest by their supposed diplomatic envoy who turned out to be the planet's rebellion force in disguise. Jim got away with a clean shot through his shoulder, thank everything holy, but seeing him covered in blood _again_ did nothing to calm Leonard's nerves. He's had these dreams before, and he half-expected the one tonight. They always come when Jim skids a little too close to death as he barrels through life.

Jim doesn't know. Leonard's sure of that because Jim can't keep a secret to save his life, doesn't know how to hide his emotions, and if Jim knew that Leonard dreamed him dying, he'd be there with scotch and old Earth movies, silent and comforting.

Leonard hears what Uhura says about Jim sometimes: he thinks she's a damn fine officer and he doesn't begrudge her opinions because he knows Jim was a dick to her for most of the Academy, but Jim Kirk is rarely selfish and less often cruel. People are always surprised to learn that Jim, under the bluster and bravado, is kinder than he lets on, sweeter than expected. 

Leonard still remembers his first wedding anniversary apart from his wife, how Jim had appeared and plied him with drink and stories and vintage Earth TV until Leonard managed to forget. How Jim plies him with gifts on his birthday, and sings loud, off-key Christmas carols with him during the holidays, how Jim brings Leonard coffee and complains loudly about the bags under his eyes. Jim cares. He sure as hell doesn't like people knowing it, but he does.

And Jim probably doesn't know because he's Jim and he seems to think that no one gives a rat's ass about him beyond their need for a captain, but Leonard is terrified of Jim dying, of Jim leaving him alone. Leonard doesn't have anyone. His wife hates his guts, his daughter refuses to see him and he's never been good at making friends, at loving people. Jim's the only one he let close and that's because Jim's a persistent little shit and wouldn't leave him the hell alone until he wormed his way into Leonard's life like a living, breathing, _eating_ parasite (Leonard exists on coffee and nerves: Jim's the one who ate out of his fridge during their Academy years, and he made sure to clear Leonard out, the little pig).

All he has left is this shitfuck job, his bones and--Jim.

And Jim keeps fucking himself up.

He's the captain. Leonard realizes that, even if he still can't quite compute Jim in that chair, leading like he was fucking born to it, like he's been a captain all this time and only just managed to get his hands on a ship to make it official. Jim's, what, six years younger than him--too fucking young to be bossing the adults around, but he does it with such calm assurance that it's hard to remember the time Jim was so shitfaced that he puked for hours in Leonard's toilet, groaning that Leonard should just let him pass out on his back so he could die from his own vomit, screw tequila _and its mother_ \--

But Jim's the captain and he needs to lead. Leonard knows he can't just lock Jim in his room and never let him out. And he _should_ be safe, he always goes out with what feels like half the fucking ship but he still manages to show up half-dead when the mission’s over, in need of hypo after hypo.

Leonard got fed up with it a couple months back and pulled Spock aside, told him to look after the goddamn captain or one day he would need medical experience and Leonard _would not be there to save him_.

Spock sighed--a tiny, patient, _humans-are-exasperating_ sigh. "Doctor McCoy," he said. "It is extremely unlikely that I will need your assistance, but in the case that I do it would be illogical to let the first officer and best person to keep the captain alive offship die."

Leonard stared at him, dropped his face in his hands. Fucking _Vulcans_. "Can't we just tie him up and never let him leave the damn ship?" he muttered into his palms.

Spock considered it. "Illogical," he decided ultimately. "With a .01% chance of legitimate success considering the Captain's determination and knowledge of escaping confinement."

Since then, Leonard notices that Jim comes back a little better put together, but doesn't say anything to Spock because he's still a green-blooded hobgoblin bastard. 

Jim, of course, notices nothing: he grins and complains about the hypos, but it's hard for Leonard to care because at least Jim's alive to groan about them, alive to roll his eyes or yelp or smile--

Jim's all Leonard has left. He'll be damned if he lets Jim die doing something stupid.

**iv.**

On shore leave, Leonard eats a lot of real food and gets shitfaced. Sometimes Jim is there with him, and sometimes he's--somewhere else. Jim's a people person at heart really, in a way Leonard's never been able to conceive of himself, but there are periods where Jim gets this wild, dark look in his eye and retreats like a shy animal. Leonard has learned to leave him be during those times.

Jim disappears after they touch down and Leonard assumes that it's one of those times again--when he goes three of their shore-leave days without hearing from Jim, he's not that worried. They leave in another two days, and Jim usually shows put the day before they go back out again to get Leonard staggeringly drunk.

Leonard spends his days in the Starfleet Medical, making the rounds and checking in on old patients. It keeps him busy so that he doesn't remember the people he should be visiting on his leave and allows him to stock up on medicine for his own sickbay and get the news from other doctors.

He's finishing his last set of rounds late on the third day of their leave when he gets bowled over by a nurse. She’s tall, blonde, wearing a nametag labelled Christine Chapel. 

"Doctor McCoy, thank God," she says, catching his elbow. "You need to come, quick."

Leonard knows that tone and hurries after her without protest. "What happened?" he asks. "Gunshot wound? Car accident?" Still so unfortunately common even in the 23rd century.

"Car accident," she says, hurrying forward. “Really bad one. The paramedics just brought him in.” Leonard has to half-run just to stay at her heels. "Only--" She stops so suddenly that he nearly crashes into her and turns. "Dr. McCoy, I'm sorry but--You're friends with Jim Kirk, aren't you? I remember when you were here in the Academy he was always around."

Jim liked to bother Leonard while he was on shift, pestering him to go out later, eating everything in sight, flirting obnoxiously with nurses and doctors alike. Most of the people at Leonard's hospital had gotten used to seeing him around when Leonard was there. Leonard swallows, anxious knot tightening in his stomach.

"Yeah," he says. "Why--"

She takes a deep breath. "The car accident patient--he just came in, maybe five minutes ago. He's really bad and he needs extensive surgery. You and Dr. Lanchester are the only on call doctors qualified to help him, but Dr. Lanchester is--"

"Already in surgery, yeah," Leonard finishes, brow wrinkling. “That kid with the tumor. But what's the problem? I can help the kid just fine." His heart thrums in his throat.

Chapel stares up at him, eyes huge with sympathy. "Doctor, the patient is Jim Kirk."

Leonard's mind blanks out and every sound in the hall goes dim for just one moment. _No, Jim was supposed to be safe,_ no. He struggles to remember how to breathe for one long moment. _Goddamnit, Jim_ , he thinks and breath and sound rush back in on him at the same time as he regains control. 

"Well, we'd better get to him quick, then," he says, and starts hurrying back down the hall. If he's noticeably faster than before, Chapel doesn't mention it. "Injuries?" he forces himself to ask. His voice cracks in the middle and he winces, but Chapel doesn't so much as flinch. Leonard vows to give her glowing recommendations in the future, should she ever need them. 

"Extensive," she says. "Broken right femur, severe lacerations on his back, a good chunk of his skull was bashed in… His car was completely totaled." Leonard's stride lengthens until he's nearly running. Chapel keeps up with him easily. "The paramedics have kept him stable, but if he doesn’t get into surgery soon he’s not going to make it. In here, Doctor.” 

She turns into the next room and Leonard stops dead. Jim's there all right, unconscious on the biobed and looking like roadkill. Blood seeps sluggishly through his shirt and down his face and Leonard can see the sharp angle his leg juts out at, the sharp crack in his collarbone. Leonard swallows hard. _Dammit, Jim_.

"Dr. McCoy," Chapel says, so serious that Leonard looks at her despite not wanting to take his eyes off Jim for a second. "Usually I would be against you performing on Mr. Kirk, as you're listed as his emergency contact." 

Leonard's stomach bottoms out. He'd forgotten that Jim listed him, way back in the day. It had started partly as a joke since he said Leonard would always be the first to know about his injuries anyway, since he was always the one stitching Jim back up. Before now it had never been an issue because Jim never went to the hospital if he got a bad knock in a fight or felt ill--he always just came to Leonard instead.

"Technically, I'm not allowed to operate on him," he agrees, but Chapel must see the _like hell I won't_ in his face because she rolls her eyes.

"You're the only doctor in here to make sure he gets out of that operating room alive," she says. "I'd wait for Lanchester, but she's going to be in surgery for at least two more hours, so it has to be you." She glances down at him and her mouth purses. “You know, I knew him back in the Academy?” She smiles, tremulous. “He probably doesn’t remember me, but we had fun together for a while. I always wanted to slap him for cutting it off the way he did, but I don’t want to see him dead.” She meets Leonard’s eyes, steel in them. “So don’t fuck him up, doctor.”

Leonard laughs, so short and desperate it sounds like a sob. "I've patched that kid up so many times I could do it in my sleep, Chapel," he says. "I've got to go scrub in, get him prepped and into the OR. Keep him alive until I get there, you got that?”

He takes one last look at Jim and swallows. For a moment he doesn't want to leave, even just for a few minutes, for fear that Jim will die when he's gone. Then he takes a deep breath and steps out, cursing every Kirk in existence as he goes.

- 

Leonard doesn't leave Jim's bedside for the ten hours it takes him to wake up after his surgery. Leonard doesn't even think about it--deep internal bruising, even some bleeding, a nearly punctured lung, a ruptured aorta, two broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, one of his kidneys severely damaged… Jim's lucky Leonard's dedicated and has some of the steadiest hands to come out of the Academy in years or he wouldn't have come out of that alive.

After the six hours in surgery, Leonard went to get a cup of coffee and then came back. The steady beep of Jim's life support signs calmed him, kept him from the creeping anxiety that Jim would die in the minutes Leonard left him alone. He settled in with some patient files, and when those were done, a book on his padd.

Chapel checked in on them a few times, but never said anything about Leonard being there, off-duty and before visiting hours were technically open. Leonard's going to get a goddamn medal for that lady. Or maybe a position on the finest ship in the fleet? He makes a mental note to look over Chapel’s credentials. 

Jim groans at around 0800, roughly twelve hours since he'd been wheeled in. Not a bad recovery time, Leonard thinks as he leaps to his feet, tricorder in hand to scan Jim over. Usually it's a bad sign when unconscious patients don't wake after a few hours, but considering Jim's been under sedatives since his arrival, Leonard wasn't really expecting him to wake up until the next day.

"Bones?" Jim slurs as he comes out of it. Leonard's hand tightens around the tricorder.

"Yeah, kid, it's me," he says.

Jim sighs. "Good," he says. "Din't wan' nobody else." His eyes are hazy, glossed over, but when he looks at Leonard, it's straight on. "Accident?"

"You got in a goddamn car crash, you moron," Leonard snaps and if Dr. Lanchester were there, she'd take him down a peg or two for his bedside manner, but Jim only smiles.

"Surgery?" he asks.

"For six hours," Leonard says. "I was on-call at the time, so you got off lucky." They should just officially change Jim's middle name to lucky, really.

Jim sighs again. "Good," he says. "I'd only want you to."

There's a hand squeezing Leonard's heart, this side of too tight. Jim's got issues with doctors, Leonard's known that since they met; something about not liking being told what to do, Leonard would guess, but Jim says it's about the hyposprays, usually very pointedly after Leonard sticks him with one. Before he can stop himself, Leonard reaches out, puts a hand on Jim's bandaged head.

"You got it, kid," he says, because he can't verbalize the feeling thrumming under his skin right now. "Got your own personal surgeon, right here. Maybe you could try to use him less though, because he's getting sick and tired of patching up your beat up body for stupid reasons, yeah?"

Jim snorts. "Get used to it. Got nobody else," he says and passes out again.

- 

Leonard doesn't leave his side for the next two days.

-

By the end of the second day, Jim’s stable and recovering. His leg’s going to be in a cast for a few more weeks and he’ll be on medical leave even when they ship out tomorrow until his internal injuries have completely healed, but he’s out of the danger zone.

Leonard left to shower, file his report, and eat--but otherwise, he’s been in Jim’s room, keeping track of his vitals as Jim slept. He’s made his own little nest in the armchair next to Jim’s bed, and he watches Jim sleep, tracks his chest to make sure he’s still breathing.

"You're so fucking stupid," Leonard whispers, half to himself. "I don't even know what to do with such an utter dipshit. This is shore leave, the one time you go off ship and have absolutely no fucking reason to get yourself injured. A two-year-old could manage to stay out of trouble for five days on Earth, Jim, a _two-year-old_. You are worse than a two year old, you're--you're ridiculous. And stupid. With your stupid smile and your stupid hair, you're just--"

"Stupid?" Jim rasps, opening one eye and grinning up at him, and Leonard's on him before he finishes the word, checking him over, sticking another hypo in his neck. Jim winces. "Ow," he mutters, pathetic.

"Since you hate hypos so much, you'd think you'd try and do everything to avoid them," Leonard tells him.

Jim stares up at him, blue eyes an accusing slit. "I _do_ try," he says, with as much dignity as a man lying down on a hospital bed wrapped in bandages can manage.

"Running away when I try to stick you with them doesn't count," Leonard tells him and Jim pouts.

"I'm not running now, am I?" he mutters.

"Because you're strapped down to the bed."

Jim glowers at him. "You're an evil man, Bones. Have I ever told you that before?"

"Several times, actually," Leonard says, thinking of all the times Jim's leveled the accusation at him after he interrupted Jim's drunken conquests, after he forced Jim to sit down and study, after he made Jim sit down for his STD testing every other week because there's a line between having fun and being stupid and Jim crosses it almost every time--

Jim groans and Leonard's scanning him before he consciously realizes what he's doing. He thought he got all the internal damage cleared up in surgery, but--

"Jesus, Bones," Jim pants. "I'm fine, just sore. Car crashes aren’t a fucking joke, apparently.”

Leonard's hand tightens on the scanner before he sets it aside. He collapses into the chair by Jim's bedside and he buries his face in his hands. For a long moment the room is quiet, only the muted sounds of beeping breaking the silence.

But Leonard is sitting with Jim Kirk--the silence doesn't last long.

"Bones?" he says. Hesitation, then-- "You okay, big guy?"

"My best friend is sitting in a hospital bed," Leonard says, lifting his head, meeting Jim's clear eyes squarely, hoping this hits him in the chest. "Again."

Jim's eyes widen, his mouth parts--he looks ready for a kiss. Leonard jumps on that thought and strangles the fuck out of it. He doesn't need to think about that with Jim fucking Kirk, who's been in basically every bed in the entire Academy except for Leonard’s and probably Spock's. And Uhura's. 

(Although Jim did say that Uhura and Gaila were roommates and Leonard _really_ wouldn't put it past him--)

"Bones," Jim says, delight worming into his expression, a smile unfurling in the corner of his ridiculous, generous mouth, "were you _worried_ about me?"

It takes everything Leonard has not to strangle the fucking dimwit. Jim, being Jim, doesn't take _a fucking hint_ \--his grin widens until it's that familiar, shit-eating, _I'm-a-little-snotty-asshole-and-I-don't-care_ grin that Leonard knows and dreads.

"You _were_ ," he croons. "Well, Bonsie I already have a mom but you two can duke it out over who gets to wrap me in blankets and ply me with chicken noodle soup, if you want. I gotta warn you though, she's a hair puller--"

“You fucking _moron_ ,” Leonard says, deadly calm, startling Jim into silence for the first time since Leonard met him. “Kid, what the hell were you thinking? It’s one thing to get hurt on missions, there’s always a danger with that--maybe not to you _every single fucking time_ , but we’ll get to that--but it’s another fucking thing to get yourself into a car accident on Earth!”

Jim’s expression shifts. “Did the cops come by?”

Leonard rolls his eyes. “They came by yesterday when you were still out of it. Told ‘em to fuck off, that I didn’t know anything about what happened. Cops said your car was completely wasted and something about a drunk driver?”

“Asshole ran a red light,” Jim says. “Went right into me and then I went right into the next guy.” His face dims. “I guess they both--”

“Dead on impact, according to the people who brought you in,” Leonard says. “You were on the only one to make it out.”

“Fucking figures,” Jim mutters.

Leonard leans forward and slaps him upside the head. Jim yelps, winces, and glares at Leonard in wounded confusion.

“What the hell? Injured here!”

“You’re not allowed to do this to me anymore, kid,” Leonard says. He hasn’t had enough sleep in the last couple days, can’t stop himself from saying, “I can’t take this, Jim. You need--you need to take care of yourself, okay? I can’t keep wondering what’s going to happen to you every second of every day, if this is the time that I’m not--” He swallows hard.

Jim's expression melts, softens into something strange and gentle and un-Jim Kirk. He reaches out and, very carefully, touches his fingers to the back of Leonard's hand. Leonard stares down at them like they're the appendages of some strange animal.

"You don't need to worry about me, Bones," Jim says. "I'm an idiot, right? I'm too dumb to die."

Leonard chokes on a laugh and when he looks up Jim's grinning--not his normal, everyday _see-how-cool-I-am_ grin that makes Leonard want to strangle him, but the soft, fond lip quirk that Leonard hopes to God no one has told Jim is stupidly attractive because then he'll start doing it all the time and Leonard can't handle that amount of stress. His current amount of stress is about all he can handle, actually, and even that's pushing it a bit.

Leonard, for one violent moment, wishes for a bottle of whiskey.

“Promise me,” Leonard says. “Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself--when we’re out there again, and back here too because apparently you’re too damn dumb to not get yourself in an accident on your home planet.”

Jim’s smile widens. “I promise, Bones,” he says. “Now can you hook me up with the good drugs? My leg feels like it’s on fire.”

-

Of course, he's Jim Kirk--Leonard should've never trusted the little bastard's word.

**iii.**

Weeks later, a familiar scene: Leonard half-asleep at his desk, using papers as his pillows. He has the dim knowledge of the nurses' tiptoeing around in the sickbay, trying not to wake him. If Jim ever fires one of his nurses, Leonard will _skin_ the little bastard. See if anyone will sleep with a flayed man.

For a week, it's been blissfully quiet on board. Jim had gone off ship twice already and though Leonard waited for his return on the edge of a knife, tense with anxiety, he's come back about as pristine as Jim Kirk can, and barely needed to stop by the sickbay afterwards. Leonard, for the first time in weeks, hasn't had a dream of Jim dying in his arms.

(If his dreams turn to Jim doing other things in his arms, Leonard will never say a goddamn word. Jim doesn't need anyone else to tell him that he's too attractive to exist sometimes, the kid's got a big enough head as it is.)

Jim and the others are out on a mission, as always: checking a planet they passed on their way back to Earth for a routine check, small and unmarked in the Federation database. Jim had been eager to go, bouncing on his toes next to Spock's slim, stoic form. Leonard had wondered again how those two got along, how on Earth Jim could call them friends.

They’ve been gone for a while, Leonard thinks drowsily. At least a few hours. He knows what that probably means, though he can hope--

His comm link blares and Leonard jerks upward, papers spraying everywhere, his heart dropping to his toes.

"Dr. McCoy," Uhura says over the comm, and the catch in her voice makes anxiety curl in his stomach. "Please hurry. The captain and the commander, they're both badly injured."

Leonard jumps to his feet, grabbing his Jim-kit--the necessities for treating a variety of injuries on one Jim Kirk, all gathered into one helpful location (originally his medkit, but Leonard uses it so exclusively on Jim now that it seemed more appropriate to rename it)--and rushes out the door, comm in his other hand.

"How bad are they?" he snaps, half-running now. Anything that could injure Spock was sure to damage Jim worse--fucking humans and their god be damned vulnerability. Leonard sometimes wished they all had Vulcan physical superiority because then maybe he'd have to worry just a little less about the stupid kid who happened to be the best friend he'd ever had.

"Bad," Uhura says. Uhura's the most competent person Leonard's ever met, and her voice is shaking.

He runs faster.

-

They're bloodied wrecks, the two of them, twins in red. Leonard, for one blinding moment, forgets all of his training, all of his expertise, and stares. Then the nurses come in behind him shouting and he blinks back into himself, hurries forward to help them. Spock’s arm looks strange and there’s green blood clotting at his temple, but he has Jim tucked into his elbow, keeping him upright, and that worries Leonard more than anything. Jim wouldn’t let Spock treat him like that in front of the crew unless he was so hurt he couldn’t stand on his own.

"What the hell happened?" he demands as he starts scanning both of them--broken ribs on Jim, broken collarbone on Spock, both of them with intense internal bruising but no bleeding, not yet--

“The planet was supposed to be uninhabited,” Spock says. His usually crisp speech is slurred a little, probably from the nasty bump he’s sporting on the back of his head. Jim, on the other hand, looks entirely unconscious. Spock really is the only thing keeping him upright.

"Let me guess," Leonard says, "it _wasn't_."

Why can't any of the planets that are supposed to be uninhabited actually not have ravenous, dangerous alien life forms on them?

Uhura, her gaze fixed on Spock with unwavering intensity, says, “Let’s just say they were not pleased at what they perceived as a hostile takeover. 

Spock continues, "The captain and I were separated from the group while we were finding a point through the interference for the Enterprise to beam us up. The natives of the island managed to find us and though we beat them off, we were engaged in combat for some time. I presume the rest of the away team managed to make it here before us?”

“Yes,” Uhura says, her voice breaking a little. “When we got up, you were still down there. Scotty found you.” She clears her throat. “What caused the natives to attack you, initially?”

"Jim probably mouthed off to them," Leonard mutters, not meaning it even a little bit. Even if he can understand the desire to beat Jim Kirk into a bloody pulp for his attitude, Leonard's too attached to the little shit to ever do it. Besides, Leonard's learned not to break the things he fixes.

Uhura snorts. "If anyone's capable of driving an unknown alien species to violence, it's Jim Kirk," she agrees.

Leonard's always liked Uhura.

“Although I concur about the captain’s ability to infuriate alien species, the answer is much more simple: they saw our uniforms,” Spock says, then sways on his feet.

"Get these two to the sickbay," he orders the nurses, “The debriefing can wait until they’re not about to pass out.” They huddle around Spock and Jim to get them up and moving. Leonard sighs, turns to Uhura, who looks as bleak and worried as Leonard feels. "They'll be fine," he assures her, able to breathe again, to think something other than _dammit Jim, I'm a doctor not a necromancer_. "They both took some heavy hits, but there's no internal bleeding and all the broken bones can be set easily enough. They're not exactly going to be barrels of sunshine anytime soon, but they’ll live.”

Uhura lets out a long breath, slumps. "I really don't envy you sometimes, Dr. McCoy," she says.

"Oh?" he asks. "Why's that?"

Uhura gives him a long, knowing look that makes heat travel up the back of Leonard's neck. Jesus Christ, she's nearly ten years younger than him. Since when was he surrounded by babies who could outthink him and dress him down like he was the toddler?

Uhura's look softens with amusement, a touch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Spock's usually okay," she says. "So I've never really had cause to worry about him. But I think that's less because he's Vulcan and more because Kirk takes the brunt of the damage."

"Because he's a goddamn fool," Leonard says. The nurses are bustling Spock and Jim out of there and he moves to follow them, focus snapping back into place. Uhura stops him with a touch to the elbow. 

"You know, the captain always talks about you when he's injured," she says. "He kept babbling on about how you were going to kill him for breaking his promise before he passed out. 

Leonard swallows around the lump in his throat. Goddamn idiot. Who worries about a promise they made weeks ago when they're half-killed?

(There's a reason Jim Kirk shouldn't be allowed to exist: he's too goddamn charming for his own fucking good, he's like some kind of lethal drug disguised as a human. No one person should be allowed to look that good and still be such a motherfucking gold-hearted fool. Not that Jim would ever want to be considered good, but Leonard knows that all that blustery assholery is a facade--one day he'll tell Jim that he saw Jim rescue those kittens from the rain during their first year at the Academy and he knows that Jim kept them for a week to make sure they were healthy before giving them away to a shelter. And he'll be sure to tell him on the bridge, where everyone can hear how much of a soft-hearted idiot Jim Kirk really is, and so he can have the pleasure of seeing how red Jim turns.)

"I need to go," Leonard says, clearing his throat. "They've got a few hours of doctoring before they're in the clear."

Uhura smiles, lets go of his arm. "Thank you, doctor," she says, all sincerity. Then, with a raised eyebrow, "Don't you think you should tell him?"

Leonard prefers to think of his abrupt departure as more of a strategic retreat than simply running away. Uhura's laughter follows him out nonetheless.

-

He wasn't lying: Spock and Jim are okay, aside from the broken bones. They're both lucky as hell, especially Jim--one of those broken ribs could've punctured a lung and he would've been a lot worse off. But Jim's middle name is lucky son-of-a-bitch, so Leonard's not really surprised. Just grateful.

They sleep for the next day, and Uhura is there, by Spock's bedside, not touching him but a constant presence. Sometimes Leonard wonders about them, about what Spock did to land someone like Uhura--what Uhura did to catch the attention of Spock. But unlike Jim, he's not a nosy little gossip, so he keeps his questions to himself, bustles about attending to business while he keeps his ears open for any change in their condition.

Spock wakes up first.

When his monitors go off, Leonard rushes in, hurriedly performs several preliminary scans. Spock blinks up at him as he rushes through them, then sits up, abrupt, the most panicked Leonard’s ever seen him be.

"The captain--" he says, eyes flickering around the room, seeking Jim, who is hidden behind Leonard. 

"He's fine," Leonard says, frowning over Spock's readings. Mostly normal, everything seems to be healing fine. "Still asleep, but he's human, it takes us longer to heal."

Spock lets out a long breath, the Vulcan equivalent of relief. Leonard exchanges a look with Uhura, who smiles, rueful. Figures that Jim Kirk could worm his way into a Vulcan's heart, little bastard could probably make friends with a Klingon if he tried hard enough.

Leonard can sympathize, and that's really the kicker of the whole thing.

Sudden beeps echo to his left and Leonard hurries over to Jim, who's blinking awake, gasping for breath, obviously panicked and disoriented.

"Jim!" Leonard snaps. He leans over into Jim's space, tricorder scanning even as he says, "You're fine, you're on the Enterprise." Then, dryly, "You're too stupid to die, remember?" 

Jim blinks up at him, damned eyes too fucking blue to be real, and then smiles, the skin on his lips cracking. "Sorry," he mutters. "Broke the thing."

_He kept babbling on about how you were going to kill him for breaking his promise before he passed out._

Leonard softens, tries to squash the completely irrational desire to wrap Jim in cotton wool and old-fashioned bubble wrap until he can't get hurt by anyone. No matter what Spock thinks, not all humans are illogical animals driven by base instincts--Leonard can realize how completely insane it is to try to hide Jim Kirk from the world that can't quite seem to stop hurting him.

"Don't worry about it, kid," he says.

Jim smiles up at him, then stiffens. "Spock?" he says, brow furrowed with worry, eyes searching around the sickbay. 

"I am fine, captain," Spock says before Leonard can answer. Jim tilts his head to take Spock and Uhura in, narrows his eyes at Spock, then smiles, wide and generous.

"Don't worry," he tells Spock. "I'm totally a-okay. I mean, I feel like shit, but I'm alive." Leonard stares down at him, then looks over at Spock, completely baffled. Spock looks anything but worried: aside from the bandage around his shoulder, he looks as unruffled as ever.

"Worry is an emotion," Spock counters, eyebrow sliding up.

Jim chuckles, coughs. Leonard nearly scans him again, but Jim waves him off. "Right, forgot," he says to Spock. “Don’t know what I was thinking, accusing you of having emotions.” Spock looks like he wants to say something, but Jim’s already looking at Uhura instead. "You're fine?"

"Not a scratch," Uhura says. There's something warm around the corner of her eyes, like she's holding back a smile or tears or both. "You two were the only injuries we had."

"Not a mission unless there's a broken bone, as I always say," Jim says, then starts and looks up at Leonard with huge, guilty eyes. "I mean--"

Leonard rolls his eyes. "Adrenaline junkie," he says and sticks a hypo in Jim's neck.

"Masochist," Jim complains, then yawns, his eyelashes fluttering.

“I’d have to be to put up with you, idiot.” Leonard checks the tricorder, relaxes when he realizes that it's exhaustion more than anything else that Jim's passing out from. Unable to stop himself, he reaches out to touch Jim's hair. "Go the fuck to sleep, you idiot."

"Aw, Bonsie," Jim says, eyes sliding closed, "you say the sweetest things."

Then he's asleep, breath evening out. Leonard checks his readings one more time, relaxes a little more when he sees how normal they are. When he turns around, Uhura and Spock are both watching him, eerily similar expressions on their faces.

For a moment, they all stare at each other. Then Spock's eyebrow creeps upward and Uhura fucking smirks like a cat that just found an open cage full of canaries.

Leonard flushes, and damns himself for it as he makes yet another strategic retreat to his office.

-

(When Jim gets out of the sickbay three days later, he asks Leonard again and again when he keeps blushing when he sees Uhura, but Leonard keeps mum until Jim gives up in a sulky huff.)

ii.

When Leonard comes up to the bridge and finds it Jim-less, he's understandably suspicious. The crew all shifts uncomfortably as Leonard glares across the room, except for Spock, who meets Leonard's stare.

"What happened to the captain?" Leonard asks, deceptively light.

He notices the way Sulu and Chekov exchange looks out of the corner of his eye and his suspicion deepens.

"He called up to the bridge to say he was staying in his quarters for the day, Doctor," Spock answers. There's a long pause, then Spock adds, pointedly, "He did not sound well." 

Leonard swears violently under his breath and stomps off the bridge, stifled laughter following him. Jim's quarters are only a few corridors down and Leonard punches his passcode in without pausing. There's an advantage sometimes to being Jim Kirk's best friend and his CMO--they’re few and far between, but they’re there. 

The doors slide open and the room is quiet and dark except for the stuffy breathing coming from the bed. Leonard stares at the lump under the blankets, Jim's mussed blond hair peeking out, and sighs, anger sliding away. He knows that sound--he raised his little girl for nine years before Jocelyn took her away and he's treated his fair share of colds.

He sits down on the bed. Jim snuffles, turns over to face him. "Bones," he croaks. His face is clammy-pale, and his nose looks red. Beside his head is a small mountain of tissues.

"Cold, Jim?" he asks, pressing a hand to Jim's forehead.

He pulls back in surprise when he finds it hot, the kind of dry burning feeling skin gets only during a fever. He looks closer, notices that Jim's shivering even though he must have piled all of his blanket rations on top of him along with an old-fashioned quilt that he must have brought with him from home. Leonard recognizes it as Jim's grandmother's, the one he always drug out whenever he felt particularly bad after a hangover.

"Don't feel good, Bones," Jim rasps. His eyes slide closed.

"Jim," Leonard says, shaking him a little. Jim's eyes open again, and there's the pout. Leonard rolls his eyes. "Have you thrown up at all?"

Jim's snotty looks turns sheepish. Leonard groans. "Nausea and fever," he mutters. "How's your breathing, Jim? Feel okay?"

Jim hesitates. "Hurts," he says finally. "When I--" He pauses, then tries to take a deep breath from his mouth, only to flinch and start coughing.

"Shit," Leonard mutters. "Jim, you need to come with me to the sickbay, you got that? This isn't just a cold, it sounds like you're on the edge of full-blown pneumonia."

Jim shakes his head. "No," he mutters, dragging the covers back to his chin. "I hate that place."

Leonard takes a deep breath, tries not to yell. Jim's eyes are unfocused, hazy--between the fever and his probable headache, he's not exactly in his best mind. "Jim, that's an order," Leonard says. "It'll be easier to treat you there. Just a couple of hypos and then you can sleep in the back, alright?"

Jim glares at him mutinously. "No," he says. "Staying here." He burrows under his blankets to make his point.

Leonard stares at the lump under the covers for a long moment. Then he smirks, slow and wicked.

“Alright, Jim,” he says as he creeps closer to the bed. “We’ll just--aha!”

Jim yelps as Leonard scoops him up, blankets and all. Jim’s heavier than he expects so Leonard nearly drops him, but they get situated within moments, balancing out. Jim huddles in close to Leonard’s chest, eyeing the ground with caution.

“Don’t you dare drop me, Bones McCoy,” he says, then sneezes.

“On my honor as a gentlemen,” Leonard promises and strides out of the room.

Jim’s fucking lucky that Uhura and Sulu are back on the command deck, otherwise there’d be pictures up and down the ship in two seconds flat. Actually, Leonard’s pretty lucky about that too, so he keeps a sharp eye out in case one of them actually bothered to follow him.

The way to the sickbay is clear, thankfully, and the nurses are preoccupied when Leonard sweeps in and dumps Jim onto one of the biobeds. Jim glares up at him, still cocooned in his blanket nest.

“Wanted to stay in my room,” he mutters, mutinous, then sneezes again.

“Buck up, princess, this’ll only take a minute,” Leonard says as he grabs a couple of hyposprays. “Let’s get you drugged up, kid.”

“Might be allergic,” Jim reminds him, as if Leonard could ever forget.

The one time he didn't check and doused Jim with a hypo that was meant to take away spring-time allergies, the kid went and had a fucking seizure. Leonard would never forget that kind of mind-numbing panic--unless he'd used the hypo on Jim before, he always triple-checked them. Then checked them again. Jim already had too many things out to kill him, Leonard didn't need to add himself to the list.

“These ones are fine, Jim,” he says as he gets them set up. “How in the hell did you get pneumonia anyhow, huh? We’re in the middle of a goddamn spaceship, there shouldn’t be a cold virus for light years.” He glares suspiciously at Jim over the hypo. “Has the crew been having colds and not sharing with their CMO?”

Jim rolls his eyes, settles more fully into his blankets. “‘Course not, you think I’d let them spread their sick to me? Dunno, Bones. Maybe my body knows its winter back in Iowa?”

Leonard snorts, snaps forward to hit Jim with his first hypospray. “As Spock would say--that’s pure bullshit, kid.”

Jim groans. “Spock would say something more like, _that sounds quite illogical Captain, were you perhaps dropped on your head as a child?_ ”

“Yeah, that does sound more like him,” Leonard agrees as he injects the next hypo.

“Jesus, you’re quick with those things,” Jim mutters.

“Trick of the trade,” Leonard says. “Last one, Jimmy.” As Jim rubs his neck, Leonard throws aside the hypos. “How you feeling?" 

Jim considers it. “Nose is clearing up,” he says, voice noticeably sharper. “Chest doesn’t feel as congested.” He takes an experimental breath. “Still dizzy, though.”

“Your fever’s only going to clear up after you get some sleep,” Leonard says. He and Jim stare at each other for a moment, then Leonard huffs. "So _sleep_ , idiot."

Jim grins at him. "Tell me a story, Bones." 

"Once upon a time," Leonard says dryly, "there was an extremely stupid captain who kept getting himself beat up despite promising his very best friend--a saint, according to some--that he would keep his pretty ass _out of trouble_."

"You think my ass is pretty?" Jim simpers and Leonard rolls his eyes.

"Every part of you is pretty, dumbass," he says.

Jim blinks at him as if he's taken aback and Leonard scowls. It's not like Jim hasn't said it a million times before--kid knows he looks good, which is both part of his charm and what makes him the most annoying fucker in Federation Space (and Leonard doesn't doubt that the Klingons wouldn't take a swing or two at Jim's head if they got the chance to meet him either).

Jim recovers. "I didn't know you swung that way, Bones," he says, smile curling in the corner of his mouth. "Have you been secretly pining away for my awesome ass?"

Leonard snorts. "You look like death warmed over kid, no one would want to jump your bones."

Jim raises an eyebrow, full-out smirks. "But in the future?"

Leonard meets his eyes full-on for a moment, then turns away, picking up his discard hypos. "You can sleep in here until your fever goes down,” he says. His heart is beating in irregular time against his ribcage, hard and fast. “I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll sit with you when I’m done.”

Jim is quiet until Leonard's at the door to his office, "Thanks, Bones," he says as Leonard crosses the threshold. Leonard glances over his shoulder to see Jim staring straight at him, mouth tight but his eyes warm. "I feel better already."

-

Jim is asleep when Leonard comes back in an hour with a bundle of paperwork tucked under his arm. Leonard sits with him anyway, humming absently under his breath and listening to the muted, steady beep that proves Jim’s alive and well.

**i.**

Leonard's seen Jim in a truly ridiculous amount of fights. 

Okay, that's a lie. Leonard's seen Jim in the _aftermath_ of a truly ridiculous amount of fights that leave him bloody, bruised and in dire need of patching up. He's glad now that he never witnessed the actual fights, because if the aneurysm he's having now is any indication, he would've been dead of a stroke before thirty. 

Jim steps into the Bekhip's equivalent of a fighting ring, his shirt and shoes cast aside. Leonard wishes he could take the moment to appreciate Jim's chest or abs, but he's having a hard time breathing, so he can’t quite concentrate. Across from Jim is a hulking mountain of muscle, dark red eyes full of the contained animal rage of a bull--and completely focused on Jim's small, slim form. 

Leonard wants to punch something. Some _one_. Jim, to be specific.

"When this is over," he mutters to Spock, who's standing on his left, "I'm going to kill him." 

It isn’t Jim's fault that the Bekhip are a bunch of crazy, violence-obsessed psychos who’re reluctant to join the Federation--it _is_ Jim's fault that he volunteered when the Bekhip Confederation declared the only way they would submit to Federation control was if the Federation could best their own in combat.

"When the Captain wins," Spock says, and Leonard's grateful beyond words that he says _when_ and not _if_ , "there is a 98.6% probability that you will be too grateful for his survival to do anything other than heal his wounds and start a round of what the Captain calls 'excessive mother-henning.'"

Leonard grimaces. "And the other 2.4%?"

Spock's brow wrinkles. "There is a slight chance of committing physical violence on the Captain's face with your hand," he admits. "When I discussed it with Lieutenant Uhura, she said the proper term for this particular form of aggression was a 'bitch slap.' I do not understand what a female dog has to do--"

Leonard starts to laugh and if he's just a hair from hysteria it's not like anyone's really going to notice. "Yeah, Spock," he says as he winds down. "Your calculations are pretty fucking spot-on. Except the chance is more like 50/50." More like Jim Kirk has a 100% likelihood of getting bitch-slapped into unconsciousness when he gets out of that ring. And he's going to come out of that ring, or Leonard will follow him into the afterlife just to bitch-slap him for dying.

"Lieutenant Uhura has asked me to relay to you her wish that you 'get in line,' though I do not know where the line is or why you would need to get into it," Spock says, and Leonard starts to laugh again.

He glances at Spock through watering eyes and--well, he doesn't have a Spock-sense like Uhura or Jim, but he thinks even a trained monkey could see how tense Spock's shoulders are right now, the way his eyes are trained on Jim's form like a compass pointing north. His hands, when Leonard glances down, are clenched in tight fists, the knuckles gone bloodless. 

(After Jim volunteered, Spock tried to take his place instead: Leonard will never forget that, will take his gratitude for that to the fucking grave.

He still thinks Spock's a green-blooded hobgoblin bastard though.)

"He's going to be fine," Leonard says.

"Fine has variable definitions, Doctor," Spock says, a cadence to his voice that suggests it's an old argument. Spock’s tension gets impossibly higher. "Fine is unacceptable." 

_Jim_ , Leonard thinks as he glances over his shoulder and sees the rest of the away team watching their captain as anxiously as Spock. Uhura has her hand on the gun tucked against her hip and Sulu looks about ready to jump in the ring himself--he keeps edging forward through the crowd. Even their security team watches Jim hawk-close, as if they can keep him from getting hurt as long as they keep an eye on him. _Jim, your crew loves you more than you realize_.

His attention is drawn back to the fighting ring as the Bekhip standing at the sidelines--the one that Leonard thinks is acting as a sort of referee to this ridiculous death match--roars loud enough to rattle Leonard's bones.

"The challenge is between the Bekhip and the Federation!" the referee yells. "To the death!"

An answering roar goes through the crowd of Bekhips surrounding them, building and building into a continuous cacophony. Leonard's ears ring by the time they die down, heart thudding against his chest.

"Let the match begin!" the referee says, and stalks away.

The hulking mass of muscle wastes no time diving in, grabbing Jim by the shoulders and heaving him into the air. Leonard surges forward as Jim hits the ground hard, but Spock cuts him off, takes tight hold of his shoulder, freezing him in place. His grip is this side of too-tight.

"Wait," he says. He's not even looking at Leonard--his attention is focused on Jim, who's rolling away from his opponent to jump to his feet. "Give him time."

"He's going to get killed," Leonard hisses, panic wedging his throat. He pulls against Spock’s grip, but it might as well be made of fucking iron. "God-damnit man, if we don't stop this, there's going to be nothing I can do for him. I can't fucking raise people from the dead--"

Jim flashes in past muscle man's defenses to deliver a lightning quick jab to his throat, the highest area Jim can reach. Muscle man falls back and Leonard can breathe again. Spock’s grip softens a little and when Leonard looks up at him, the tension in his face has eased a little. 

"He is Jim," Spock says, and takes his hand off of Leonard’s shoulder entirely. "Give him time and he will come through triumphant.”

Leonard wants to protest, wants to say that Spock really hasn’t known Jim that long, definitely not as long as Leonard has. He realizes that none of these kids really have, with the exception of Uhura, maybe. But she's never seen Jim on his birthday, slumped dead drunk with a bottle of tequila hanging from one hand like a present. None of them have had Jim crawl into their beds at 4am--Jim, of course, just said he wanted the company, but Leonard knows what a violently upsetting nightmare does to someone, how the aftershocks of it can leave you shaking and sweating and frightened for your life. None of them know that Jim listens to the last recording of his parent’s conversation before the Kelvin was destroyed, that he hasn’t spoken to his mom in ten years.

Leonard's seen Jim hung-over and swearing, seen him work out so much that he collapsed from exhaustion, seen the way he curled in on himself, small and miserable, when he failed a test or got reprimanded by a professor. None of them have seen Jim be anything other than his best, brightest self--and yeah, Leonard knows that when Jim's in top form, he beats pretty much everyone else in the goddamn universe, but he's not a superhero, he's a 27 year old kid who doesn't know his fucking _limits_ and sometimes it feels like Leonard's the only one on the entire Enterprise who remembers that.  

"He's not invincible," Leonard says, because someone needs to fucking say it. "He gets hurt too fucking easily, actually, and you can't expect me to just sit back and _watch it happen again_."

"He will win," Spock says. "He will survive." He glances at Leonard for the first time, and Leonard realizes, shocked, that there's some sort of amusement tucked in the corner of Spock's eyes, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Leonard’s never seen that face directed at anyone except for Uhura and Jim--it’s disconcerting to have it turned on him. "And you will be there to help him heal afterward, as always."

Leonard has three thousand and one things to say to _that_ , but he's distracted as Jim gets a punch to the solar plexus that sounds like it broke three ribs. He arches forward again, Spock’s hand comes back down on his shoulder, and he wishes that Spock was a little less Vulcan-strong so that he could muscle his way into that stupid ring and get Jim the hell out of there. No trade agreement is worth this, nothing is worth the bruise to the eye Jim will have from that punch, the pain he's going to be in from the leg he landed on at an odd angle.

Spock lets out a quiet, approving huff and Leonard frowns, watches more closely. He hasn't really been in a lot of fights--when he was a kid, he was quiet and studious and mostly kept out of the way of the boys that swaggered around beating up kids for fun. But--and he doesn't think he's dreaming--he thinks Jim is winning. The Bekhip he's fighting keeps falling back, and Jim limps his way forward and bleeds from basically every orifice, but he keeps getting hits in.

It's not that Leonard doesn't believe in Jim, but he knows Jim's frailty better than anyone--especially Jim, who seems to think he's made of steel and diamonds and other equally unbreakable shit. He knows that with one solid punch to the chest, the Bekhip will probably puncture one of Jim's lungs and Jim will be dead in minutes unless Leonard can get to him. So it's inconceivable really, that the Bekhip just can't quite seem to make the punch he needs to, has to keep backing away from this tiny, unconquerable human that just won't _stay the fuck down_.

Leonard's heart swells with pride and fond exasperation, his fear falling back for just a moment. Jim Kirk could win the motherfucking _contest_ in not staying the fuck down. Sometimes he thinks that the Kirks have stubborn in their fucking _bones_. 

Leonard's so hyper-aware of what's happening around him that he notices immediately when Spock goes rigid next to him, takes a half-step forward.

"What?" he demands, glancing back at Spock, whose gaze is focused on Jim, thrumming with anxiety. "What--"

Jim cries out and falls. Leonard's hopping over that stupid rope before anyone can stop him, nearly tripping on the stupid thing, and collapses at Jim's elbow. Jim has a hand clutched over his abdomen and blood gushes through his fingers, staining the gold of his uniform. 

"What?" Leonard demands, tries to move Jim’s hand so he can get a look and apply more pressure. Jim stares up at him, blue eyes wide and trembling, but keeps his hand where it is. "What happened? Jim, what did he do, let me fucking see, you moron--"

Leonard's head whips around when Spock says, "He had a knife, Doctor," from above them. He gapes. Spock is standing tall over Jim and Leonard, blocking the Bekhip's arms from where he apparently tried to attack them. Leonard hadn't even been aware of that danger. "I believe it may be poisoned."

Leonard sees it now, dangling in the Bekhip's hand--he can see why Spock thinks it's poisoned as it's coated in something clear and shiny, the material obvious on the dull gray of the blade.

"I believe under your laws of combat, the use of a knife and poison in a hand combat match is strictly forbidden?" Spock says, shoving the Bekhip away from Leonard and Jim. "Logically, that would mean you forfeit." The Bekhip snarls, but Spock remains unmoved. He spares one look back at Leonard and Jim and nods once before he turns back to face the throng of Bekhip invading the ring, all of them clamoring over each other.

Leonard finally manages to get Jim’s hands out of the way and winces--the wound isn’t very deep, thankfully, but the blade was serrated and the wound is ragged, rough around the edges. The blood gushes sluggishly out, and Leonard freezes when he notices that it’s blackened. _Poison_ , he thinks. He presses his hands hard against the wound and turns to Uhura, who stands with Spock, facing the Bekhip.

"We need to get him back to the ship!" Leonard calls out and Uhura nods once, sharp. Her eyes drift toward Jim and tremble for a moment before they ice over. "Someone comm Scotty, we need to beam up _right the fuck now_."

Sulu opens up a comm and begins talking, but Leonard is distracted by Jim’s hand curling around his forearm. 

"Bones," Jim rasps. "Make sure we won first."

"You _utter idiot_ ," Leonard mutters furiously and Jim, damn him, laughs. Leonard turns to Spock. "You! Please tell me this was not just a colossal waste of time and a new way to give me a heart attack before fifty!"

Spock's eyebrows do the thing. The _humans-are-strange-and-illogical-beasts_ thing. "The Bekhip have admitted fault, Doctor," he says. Behind him, the referee is hurling abuse at the warrior and the crowd is murmuring, low and angry. "They will trade with the Federation now."

Jim collapses against Leonard's side, a doll with all his strings cut. "Thank God," he mutters. "Get me out of this hellhole, Bones."

"Scotty's all set," Sulu says, closing his comm. His mouth is hard, pinched, and Leonard gets the idea that he and Uhura aren’t the only ones to bitch-slap the idiot out of one Jim Kirk when this is all over. Sulu meets his eyes and manages a smile. “I want a turn at slapping the captain after you and Uhura,” he says. 

Jim groans. As they start to beam up, Leonard hears him mutter, "What is it with the slaps?"

Leonard’s laughing helplessly when they land in the beaming bay.

-

When their group get back up, there's a conference call from Admiral Pike waiting. Jim grimaces and starts to make his way to the command deck--Leonard grabs his arm and does not let go.

"Like _hell_ , kid," he says and Jim rolls his eyes, the little brat. "You were just sliced open in the belly and you've got poison running through your system, so if you think you're going anywhere other than the sickbay, you're a sad, delusional idiot."

Jim looks back at Spock, who simply raises an eyebrow. To Leonard, that means basically nothing, but Jim sighs like he and Spock just had an entire conversation.

"Fine," he says, and follows Leonard to the sickbay like a sulky puppy. Leonard wants to get Spock a medal or something.

-

The poison is basic but nasty--once it hits the bloodstream, it causes an excessive amount of pain that increases the longer it sets in: within hours, Leonard knows Jim's body will go into shock from the pain, so he has to work fast.

Spock strong-arms one of the Bekhips into admitting that the poison is made from a flower in their fields, and that the antidote is made from the roots. As the away team goes to collect the flowers or, if possible, obtain an already-made antidote from the Bekhips, Leonard sits in with Jim on his conference call with Pike.

"In all my years as captain," Pike opens with, "I have honestly never seen a captain get as busted up as you do, son."

Jim grimaces. Leonard gave him the sedative he _wasn't_ allergic to for the pain, but not too much--he needs to know if Jim's pain increases at all, and he won’t be able to if Jim can't feel it. Leonard tries not to feel guilty about that.

"Job hazard," Jim says.

Pike gives him the stink-eye. "It's not a job hazard to volunteer to get the crap kicked out of you, kid," he says. Jim glares and Pike rolls his eyes. Leonard starts to wonder when the hell professionalism went out of the window. "Yeah, Spock filled me in. Look, the Bekhips have a good chunk of dilithium, but if they're as violent as Spock says, then trade with them _can_ wait. It's top priority that we can actually interact with them, otherwise trade negotiations are moot anyway. You know that, kid, so please explain to me why your doctor looks like he's about to have an aneurysm and why your first officer tried to get me to make you promise to not go on offship missions in the future."

"I do _not_ look like I'm having--" 

"Spock said _what_ \--"

Leonard and Jim exchange a look and simultaneously roll their eyes. Pike looks a little bemused.

"I'm fine," Jim says. He grins. "It's just a flesh wound." Leonard's pretty sure he's missing something because Pike groans and Jim's grin widens. "The Bekhip will trade with us now--we can work on the diplomatic relationship as we go. It was a necessary risk and Bones here can patch me up good as new, so we can pretend that it never happened."

Pike sighs. "Kirk," he says. "Look, I get it. You did a good thing here and I'm not going to scold you for it. But if you keep turning up injured on missions, you know what that's going to look like to the rest of the Admiralty."

Jim stiffens. "I don't have an adrenaline addiction, sir," he says. "The Enterprise is on the frontlines and we get caught up in a lot of crossfire. That's _all_."

Pike examines Jim, then sighs again. When he speaks again, his tone is more fatherly. "I know, kid. Just try and keep yourself out of scrapes for a little while, okay?" He snorts. "As much for my health as your career." 

Jim unwinds enough to smile up at him. "I don't know sir, I'd say your health was already going downhill before I came along." To Leonard, he adds, in a stage whisper, "Side effect of old age, y'know."

Pike rolls his eyes. "I'll talk to you when you're not high as a kite, Captain," he says, and disconnects.

Jim smiles at the screen for another moment. "Glad it was Pike this time," he says. "Nogura always just lectures me on proper Captain etiquette. No fun."

Leonard sighs, scans over Jim again. "One day, you'll tell me why Christopher Pike is so god-damned interested in your career and personal health, Jim."

Jim waves a hand. "Don't you know? I remind him of my dad."

Leonard remembers the affectionate exasperation and snorts. "Kid, nobody would put up with you just because you remind them of your dad. Nobody's that big of a saint."

Jim stills. When he looks over at Leonard, his eyes are considering. "Then why put up with me?" he asks, and it's partly about Pike, but Leonard knows that it's partly about him too.

He pretends to consider it. "Well, you keep a man in a job, for one," he says. Jim smiles a little, but the intensity in his eyes deepens. Leonard swallows hard. "You're a good kid, Jim," he says. "Pike sees that." _So do I._

Jim frowns and for a moment Leonard thinks that he's going to demand more, not allow them to stick at the status quo. Then he shivers, mouth going slack, and collapses in a dead faint.

For a moment, there's only the soft sound of medical machines beeping.

"Just my fucking luck," Leonard mutters, then sets to fixing Jim Kirk for the nth time.

**+1**

Leonard hadn't even wanted to _go_ on the mission, and that's the real irony.

He didn't usually come with on off ship missions, not unless it was a diplomatic thing (which, unfortunately, he was required to go with as CMO) or he was requested specifically or he wanted to stock up on supplies or had a stake in the planet itself. This time it was the stake that got him in trouble--the star Cesta Vega VIII promised some interesting new plants that had a whole range of strange medicinal purposes. Leonard went with the away team--Jim, of course, Spock and Sulu, who had seemed strangely exuberant about the plant life--on their first touch down and found plenty to bring back with them. Their second trip was only to collect anything they missed the first time and do a final sweep of the area in case there were any natives they missed.

Leonard’s starting to wonder if someone broke a mirror without telling anyone, because there has to be a reason that there’s _always_ natives when there aren’t supposed to be and they’re _always_ violently opposed to the Federation interfering in their business.

“I hate this,” he yells over to Jim as they duck through the undergrowth. Overhead, the Enterprise sits in dead space, trying to pick up their signal to beam them back up--the planet’s ionic atmosphere had a strange storm merely minutes ago, making it impossible to read them clearly.

“I know!” Jim yells back, but he’s so clearly elated at getting chased through the forest that Leonard just wants to hit him in the face.

That’s pretty much the status quo of their friendship, actually, which should probably tell Leonard something.

“Bones, come on!” Jim yells, stopping so that Leonard can catch up.

“Not all of us are 26 year old gym rats, Jim,” he snaps, trying to catch his breath. “Give me a minute.”

“Captain, Dr. McCoy, I believe that I can beam you up if you move just a little further north,” Chekov’s comes through their comm link, crackling but clear enough to hear. “The interference is weakest there, we should be able to lock on to your signatures.”

“Thank fucking God,” Leonard mutters. He takes a deep breath. “Alright kid, lead the way. I want to get off this hell hole.”

Jim bounces on his toes, rolls his eyes. “Stop being such a drama queen, Bones,” he says. “You’d think you were an 80 year old grandpa and not a surgeon in the prime of his life.” Jim grins, wide and wicked. “Stamina not what is used to be, huh, old man?”

Leonard glares at him. Fucking Jim Kirk and his stupid need to make everything into something dirty. “My stamina’s just fine, Jim,” he says, then smirks a little. Might as well give as good as he got--Jim Kirk isn’t the king of innuendo and he needs to remember that. “I’m an experienced gentleman, you know. Unlike you babies, I like it to _last_.”

Jim raises an eyebrow, blue eyes wicked. They start cutting their way north, or what Leonard supposes is north. “Last, huh? Sure they don’t fall asleep in the middle?”

Leonard leans in close. Jim smells like sweat, the barest hint of cologne lingering on his clothes. “Sweetheart, nobody falls asleep when _I’m_ in bed with them.”

Leonard likes the look on Jim’s face--eyes wide and dark, mouth parted for a kiss, flush to his cheeks. A man could get used to a face like that, to being the cause of a face like that. He wishes for a moment that he could say what he really wants to: Jim Kirk, you must be a motherfucking wizard because God knows that you’ve buried yourself so deeply under my skin that trying to get you out would cause more harm than good. Jim Kirk, there are times when I look at you and I can’t breathe. 

Leonard opens his mouth, closes it again. He’s too much of a fucking coward. Jim eyes him, looks like he’s about to say something--

“Captain!”

Leonard hears a strange, sharp whistling sound before the back of his head explodes in pain and darkness overtakes him. The last thing he hears before he blacks out entirely is Jim shouting his name.

-

He wakes in the sickbay, on a biobed, Jim asleep at his side, clutching tight to one of his hands. Nurse Chapel, their newest addition since their last visit back to Earth a few weeks back, is on his other side, recording his stats. When she sees he’s awake, she scans him over and smiles.

“Dr. McCoy,” she says. “I know you wanted the Captain to stop getting in trouble, but that doesn’t mean you need to start doing dangerous things too, you know.”

“The fuck happened?” Leonard says.

Chapel’s smile widened. “While you and the Captain were flirting, one of the natives snuck up on you and got you in the back of the head with a rock.”

A beat.

“I got hit in the head with a _rock_ ,” Leonard says.

Chapel’s trying not to smirk. “Yes.”

“A _rock_.”

“A sharp one, if that helps. Got a nasty cut, some bleeding.”

Leonard groans, covers his face with his free hand, careful not to disrupt the sleeping Jim by moving his other one. “God, that’s embarrassing.”

“At least it’s not as bad as the security officer who shot through her own foot when she heard an animal in the woods offship,” Chapel offers. “Or that science officer who had a plant try to feel her up.” She smiles. “I had no idea Starfleet officers could get into such stupid scrapes when I agreed to join the Enterprise, to be honest.”

Leonard considers that. “That actually does make me feel a lot better,” he says.

Chapel smiles. “I thought it might.” She glances over at Jim. “He was pretty hysterical when you were brought in, you know,” she says. Leonard’s face starts to heat up, because he recognizes that sly, knowing look on her face, that’s the face Uhura’s been giving him every moment they’ve seen each other for the past two months. “Almost wouldn’t let you go so we could take a look at you, kept getting in our way. We had to have Mr. Spock take him out.”

Leonard nearly sits up, then remembers at last minute that Jim’s sprawled all over his lap. “What?!” he whisper-shouts.

Chapel rolls her eyes. “Spock’s the only one who could get close to him,” she says. “We gave the sedative to him to administer, I promise there wasn’t any Vulcan death grips involved.”

Leonard relaxes a little. “Good.” He frowns, looks over at Jim. “He’s drugged up right now?" 

“No, he shook that off after an hour,” she says. “Once he woke up, he was much calmer. Or at least, less obviously hysterical. Went straight to you, got your hand in his and hasn’t left since.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Two hours, give or take,” she says. “You _did_ have a concussion, but the meds we gave should have cleared most of it up. You might feel--”

“Woozy and disoriented, yeah, I know the drill,” Leonard says.

Chapel rolls her eyes again, puts away his stats. “Doctors,” she says, turning away. “You make the worst patients.”

Leonard watches as she goes into his office and hopes that she doesn’t mess up the tangled mess of paperwork spread across his desk--he has a very specific system. Then he looks over at Jim--Jim, who sleeps curled around his hand like he’s afraid it will leave him. Leonard sighs pats Jim’s hair with his free hand and wonders if Chapel will let him out this goddamn bed anytime soon. He’ll never admit it to Jim, but they’re just as uncomfortable as Jim complains they are every time he’s stuck in them.

Jim shifts, but it isn’t until he slurs out, “Bones?” that Leonard realizes he’s awake.

“And Sleeping Beauty awakes,” he says, removing his free hand from Jim’s hair. Jim stares up at him, strangely disbelieving, not removing his clutch on Leonard’s hand. “Jim?”

Jim surges forward, Leonard’s hand still clasped in his, and presses an inarticulate, sloppy kiss against the corner of Leonard’s mouth. For a moment, all Leonard can do is sit there, staring back at Jim’s wide, panicked eyes, unable to react. By the time he realizes this is happening, Jim’s already pulling away, a flush travelling up his neck. Leonard--well, Leonard’s having none of _that_ , and he reels Jim in by the back of the neck for a full, proper kiss.

Jim kisses much like he does everything else--by pure, brilliant instinct, backed up with a hint of challenge. Leonard’s not sure what he was planning when he pulled Jim back in, but it wasn’t what he got: probably the dirtiest second kiss in the history of mankind, and God knows there have been some truly filthy ones. By the time Jim pulls away, Leonard’s breathless and overheated and ready to get the hell of his biobed.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Jim breathes, flushed and dark-eyed, lips slick. Leonard is still a little surprised by how much he wants him, how easy he really is when it comes to Jim Kirk. “I thought we’d both be dead before anything happened." 

“Didn’t I tell you already, Jim?” Leonard says, and the way Jim smirks at the breathiness of his voice makes his eyes narrow, makes him a little more vindictive when he finishes, “When you take it slow, you get a _much_ better climax.”

Jim’s mouth parts and he starts to lean forward again when Chapel bustles back in, data padd tucked under her arm. She pauses when she sees the two of them, then rolls her eyes.

“Your first officer is coming,” she tells Jim. “In less than a minute, so I’d suggest you two look a little less like you’re about to have inappropriate relations in a biobed and a bit more like you’re two professional officers on this starship.” Her eyebrows raise in perfect prim arcs. “Are we clear?”

A long pause.

Jim clears his throat, straightens, most of his flush already gone. “Thank you for your . . . help, Nurse Chapel.” He gives her a shifty look. “I don’t suppose I could give you a promotion so that you don’t tell Uhura about this?”

Chapel rolls her eyes with such precision that Leonard’s tempted to applaud. “Captain, nothing you can give me on this Earth can stop me from telling Nyota about this,” she says. Jim slumps and Chapel smirks, wicked. “Or showing her the live feed I tapped into about a minute before you two started going at it.”

Jim’s mouth drops and Leonard buries his face in his hands--Spock walks in at that precise moment and pauses over the threshold, his brow wrinkling.

“Captain?” he asks. “Have I come at a bad time?”

Jim doesn’t answer. 

“Just another day in the life, Mr. Spock,” Leonard says into his palms. When he raises his face, he knows why Spock’s eyebrow lifts--he’s smiling so hard that it hurts. 

Spock regards him for a long moment, then Jim. And then he reminds Leonard why he hates being stuck on a ship full of insane geniuses: the lightbulb obviously clicks in his mind and his curiosity drains away like water through a sieve. He simply turns to Nurse Chapel and gives her a look. 

“Whatever incriminating evidence you have of the Captain and the Doctor should not be circulated amongst the crew,” he says. Jim’s looking at Spock like he just became Jim’s personal God. Spock, however, pauses and adds, “Nyota, of course, is the exception.”

Jim slumps. Leonard pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jim, she’ll probably only hold it against us every other day.”

Jim gives him a glare that melts away instantly into a bright, sunny smile, the likes of which Leonard has only seen on Jim’s face once or twice in their entire friendship: it’s the smile he wore when Pike took him aside and told him that he was being given the Enterprise. Being given it is like Leonard’s been handed Jim’s happiness: so much more fragile than anyone else can really realize, and precious. Leonard returns it with one of his own and Jim’s face brightens.

“I hate newlyweds,” Chapel says and turns on her heel to march out of the room. 

Spock watches her go, puzzlement returning. “I did not realize humans could get married while one or both were unconscious--that explains much of your own marriage customs--”

“Spock,” Jim says, turning to face him, his happy smile dimming but not disappearing. Spock falls silent, and even Leonard can see the way his eyes soften. “It’s just an expression. Newlyweds are usually blissfully happy with each other, sometimes to an obnoxious degree, that’s why Chapel, uh.” He clears his throat, glances at Leonard from the corner of his eye. “That’s why Chapel called us that.”

Spock meets Leonard’s eyes over Jim’s head and gives him a tiny, approving nod: the first and, Leonard suspects, only open sign of approval Spock will ever give him. Leonard nods in return and Spock looks back at Jim.

“Captain, I simply came to tell you that the mission was a success, despite Dr. McCoy’s injury, and we will need to detail a report to send to the Admiralty by tomorrow afternoon. If you would be willing--”

“Spock,” Jim says. “I realize that a mission report is usually handled by both the captain and the first officer, or by the captain alone, but I would appreciate it if you could detail this one by yourself. You see, a certain doctor has made me a promise and I intend to fulfill it tonight.”

Leonard flushes and Jim smirks, pleased as a cat. Spock looks between them and if Vulcans showed emotion, Leonard was pretty sure he’d be rolling his eyes. “Very well, captain,” he says. “Just this once. I too remember what it was like to be, as you humans say, newlyweds. But should this become commonplace, I will of course, be obligated to report you to Admiral Pike.” He nods to them both and strides out of the room.

“He’s bullshitting,” Jim says, affectionate. “He knows that all Pike’s going to do is yell at me a bit then congratulate me for landing such a catch.”

“Admiral Pike thinks I’m a catch?” Leonard asks, intrigued. 

Jim leans over and kisses him again--light and chaste this time. Leonard loves it the same for its casualness, the intimacy of it. “He’s told me to get my head out of my ass and sweep you off your feet many a time,” he admits.

Leonard gives him the stink-eye. “And the reason you didn’t was because?”

Jim sobers. “I wasn’t sure you were interested,” he says. “And you’re my best friend, Bones, I can’t fuck that up for sex, not if you were straight or just didn’t want me.”

Leonard sighs, reaches out to ruffle Jim’s hair in the way Leonard knows he hates. Jim scowls at him but says nothing. 

“I never would’ve hated you kid,” Leonard says. “It might have been a little uncomfortable for a while, but I would’ve gotten over it eventually. I’ve spent too much time patching your ass up to just let you go.” He pauses, stares at Jim with suspicion. “You didn’t just kiss me because you got freaked out about the concussion, did you?”

Jim freezes. “Uh,” he says and Leonard groans.

“Jim--" 

“You’re not supposed to get hurt!” Jim says, and Leonard stares at him. Jim bites his lip, but forges on. “I’m the one that gets hurt, right? It’s never supposed to be you--you’re supposed to be safe and protected. I just. I need to know that you’re safe, and when you weren’t I may have lost it a little.”

“Chapel mentioned,” Leonard says, feeling a little faint. Jim Kirk always manages to surprise him, even when Leonard thinks he’s long past being surprised.

“And yeah, it was kind of in response to that, but it was also because I was just tired of waiting.” Jim sighs. “I figured, well if he doesn’t want it, at least I can chalk it up to some kind of hysterical worry or something. That might make it less awkward and horrible.”

There’s something warm and gooey underneath Leonard’s ribcage as he watches Jim, whose eyes are fixed on the biobed blankets, fidgeting with Leonard’s hand, which Leonard is pretty sure Jim doesn’t realize he’s still holding. We’re both idiots, Leonard thinks. Complete and utter morons. No wonder Spock condescends to us so much, he must think we’re fucking infants.

Leonard reaches out with his free hand and tilts Jim’s head up, leans forward for a short, sweet kiss. When he pulls back, Jim smiles at him again, the happy sunshine smile that makes every part of Leonard feel warm. 

I’m so fucked, he thinks. 

“No more injuries,” he promises Jim, then narrows his eyes in warning. “For either of us. Think about your panic times infinity and that’s me when you get yourself banged up.”

Jim nods and he looks contrite, but Leonard gives it two weeks before he comes back with a broken leg or radiation poisoning. Leonard guesses he’ll just have to live with it--in any case, Jim’s lucky that Leonard’s got such a steady head under pressure and that their positions aren’t reversed. (Jim had to get fucking _sedated_ because Leonard got hurt--once he gets over his inexplicable fondness, Leonard’s going to hold that against him _forever_.) Leonard thinks he should probably be more irritated about it maybe, but that warm feeling is fucking persistent, it just won’t go away.

"And this will be a proper relationship," Leonard asserts. Jim grins at him and Leonard struggles to maintain his sternness. "Not like how it was with all your girls and boys in the Academy, got it?"

"Bones McCoy, are you saying that I need to treat you like a gentleman?" Jim kisses Leonard's hand, blue eyes warm, incandescent with joy. "I'm offended you'd think that wasn't my intention all along."

I'm so fucked, Leonard thinks again. As Jim leans forward to kiss him again, he admits that he doesn't really mind that, not in the slightest.

-

(Leonard’s only half-right: it does only two weeks, but Jim comes back after being poisoned by some sort of _sex flower_ and Leonard’s really only too happy to heal him afterward.)


End file.
